Bliss
by Madam Chauncey
Summary: Parenthood has taught Miranda to get her Shepard fix anywhere and anytime she can scrape out a quiet moment. [MShep/Miranda. Smut. Post ME 3.]


**Bliss**

 **Summary** **:** **In which parenthood has taught Miranda to get her Shepard fix anywhere and anytime she can scrape out a quiet moment.** **[MShep/Miranda. Smut. Post ME 3.]**

 **Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed and faved my previous Shepard and Miranda piece, Its Own Reward. I think one person expressed interest in a sequel of sorts, so here it is. A post-baby slice of life spliced with smut, and just a pinch of fluff at the end. Reading the first oneshot isn't necessary to understand this one per se, but it would definitely give more insight into Shepard's thoughts on Miranda, the pregnancy, and their unborn child.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

The early fall air was light and airy at Apollo's Café; the last few residual weeks of warm summer weather were clinging on for dear life, but the crisp breeze was a telltale sign that jacket weather was fast approaching. Miranda scrolled through her datapad, looking over reports of the status of relief efforts in the Krogan DMZ. A gurgle and a coo sounded, breaking her from her concentration. She paused her reading, glancing up to look in the direction of the noise.

She was met by the innocent gaze of a six-month old girl, held securely by her father as he bounced her lightly on his knee. Miranda smiled, to which the baby responded with a gummy megawatt grin of her own.

It felt weird, being the head of a Alliance war-relief panel... being Alliance anything, really. After all those years of dedicated service to Cerberus, she was surprised the Alliance offered her the position in the first place. She had apparently impressed Hackett and earned his trust by helping destroy the organization that she once was a proud member of, so maybe it shouldn't have been that surprising. She had been wary about taking the position, but she honestly missed feeling like she was making a difference, and Shepard had encouraged her to accept.

The work was surprisingly fulfilling, albeit time-consuming. She had only returned a little after Emma turned two months. Balance was hard, but she had found one that worked.

"That's right, Baby Girl; tell Mommy to put work on the backburner for one afternoon. It won't kill her."

Miranda gave her companion a withering look, but spoke to the infant. "Emma, tell Daddy that there are a lot of people still trying to rebuild their lives after the Reapers and these reports help the Alliance know the areas that need the most aid."

A skeptical look was her reward. Miranda acquiesced with a sigh, setting the datapad on the table and holding dher arms out, a silent petition for Emma to be handed over. Dad complied, relinquishing her without protest.

"You're right, of course. The two of you are more important." She pulled the baby in, kissing her several times on the cheek

Her partner looked on with rapt interest, reclining back in his seat. "I love watching you with her."

"Then why is it such a hassle to get you to share, Adam?" she teased, holding Emma close, but facing her father.

Shepard laughed, retrieving his coffee from the table and taking a drink. After a satisfying drought, he set the white mug back down. "Share? She's our daughter, not that N7 shirt of mine we pass around."

"Yes, I'm well aware." she playfully nudged his foot with hers under the table.

He smiled and rose out of his seat, leaning in towards her ear. "Though I love seeing you with that, too. Like when you put it on before bed; I swear it's the shortest, sexiest nightgown in the galaxy, and you seem to find any excuse you can to bend over right in front of me."

Miranda contrived innocence. "Now why ever would I do a thing like that?"

Shepard kissed her cheek. "Because you're a tease, and you know that all that little taste does is drive me crazy." he shot her a knowing grin. "Matter of fact, you were wearing that shirt the night Emma was conceived."

"I'm not sure I remember that part."

She heard his smooth, deep laugh rumble pleasantly near her ear. "That's probably because you weren't wearing it for very long."

He backed away and returned to his seat with that boyish grin of his plastered on his face, and Miranda couldn't stop her chest from swelling. She was defenseless against him; whenever he looked at her like that, there were butterflies, a fireworks show, all while she was on cloud nine.

She never imagined being in love like this, ever. When Project Lazarus was in its beginning stages and she was at her most stressed, mulling over their chances to revive Commander Shepard and the suicide mission that would commence if they did manage to succeed—it all wore on her. Despite her success in Cerberus, she was inwardly feeling unfulfilled, and yes, perhaps a bit lonely. Even if Project Lazarus worked, she could still die in an outrageous mission to stop the Reapers that would commence soon after. Like someone blowing out a candle, her life would be extinguished in the blink of an eye, leaving no one behind who would truly mourn her.

She would never marry, have children; there would be no time to try and raise a child and give it everything her father had never given her. She didn't have the leisure or inclination to try and go about courting, searching for a proper partner; someone she could fall in love with. The thought of dating any of the typical men she ran across, frankly, made her skin crawl, and that led to panic.

Sure, she could go the way of artificial insemination if she was serious enough, but that reminded her too much of her own unnatural conception. No, she felt the only remedy to try and do things naturally and expediently was something casual, quick, so she opted for an arrangement over the extranet, where she could be as meticulous as she wanted. She screened several candidates for medical records, and after a few questionable correspondences, she found someone who was up to her standards.

They met on Illium at an apartment block. There was no hugging, kissing, or tender words. His first name was Jason, and he was more than willing to comply with causal sex. In hindsight, if she had been able to conceive, it would have been extremely wrong of her to have this man's child and never tell him, but she was focused on her own needs, her own goals. She felt desperate, like she needed to give this a shot before it was too late.

But it didn't work, despite the fact it was during the time when she should have been most fertile, and when the smoke cleared, she had a benign neoplasm that rendered her sterile, and a disgust in herself that she had given her body to man who didn't care for her, nor she for him, in pursuit of something that turned out to be a fool's errand.

Or so she thought.

"Miri?" a voice broke her from her thoughts, "Are you alright? You look like you're a thousand miles away."

The gurgling baby in her arms and her husband's eyes furrowed in concern reminded her where she was. Reminded her that meeting Shepard had changed everything, because he had changed her.

During pillowtalk one night in her quarters before he turned himself into the Alliance, she confessed about her condition, about her indiscretion on Illium. And while both events occurred before they had formally met, things were getting serious, and she was feeling unusually sentimental, like she needed to get the confessions off her chest before they were separated and their relationship was put under the strain of being apart.

She braced herself for the rejection she had been anticipating from him since this whole thing between them had started. She waited, but it never came. He had only laughed, and told her he was totally committed to her no matter what had happened in her past; sterility and casual sex included, but made it clear he very much expected to be the only man that she invited into her bed from then on out. Miranda agreed.

Maybe that was the moment she truly fell for him. She couldn't be sure.

"I'm… fine." She answered him, finally, nearly forgetting his question. "I was just reminiscing. I suppose I zoned out. Sorry."

Shepard drained what sounded like the last bit of coffee from his mug. "Good things, I hope? You looked a little sad."

Miranda lifted and turned Emma so they were face-to-face in an effort to get a better look at her. She couldn't believe it when she became pregnant. The doctors had all assured her it was impossible for her to conceive, and she herself, being a woman of science, knew very well what her condition meant. She had accepted it, and despite the fact that she had wanted nothing more than to have children, she had even begun to move on.

Then Shepard happened, and the longer the mission against the Collectors wore on, she realized their talks during his "check-ins" had been taking on a different life; they had become more personal, more entangled. She had privately begun to entertain ideas she hadn't given a second thought to in quite a while, maybe ever. She fully expected to ice Shepard out before things became serious enough for any of them to matter. And she _did_ try, but thankfully, unsuccessfully.

The rest was history.

"I was mostly thinking about us; everything that's happened." Miranda paused a moment. "I'm just… very happy."

"So much for no emotional entanglement, right?" Shepard joked, and she rolled her eyes at the quip, kissing Emma one more time before she passed her back to her father, retrieving his empty mug and her drained teacup.

"She's getting so big," Shepard spoke, "Remember when she could almost fit in just two of my hands?

"It's because we keep feeding her." Miranda supplied, and her husband sighed.

"And time, don't forget about time."

"Don't look so glum; we have all the time in the world," she told him, standing. "I'm going to get us a refill."

Emma cooed as if in reply, and Miranda nearly had to remind herself which of the two she was focusing on. Their daughter looked so much like her father, except when it came to her eyes. The eyes were electric blue: Miranda's if Shepard was to be believed.

"She says to hurry back," he translated.

"Of course." She leaned in as the breeze picked up for a moment, and she was hit with Shepard's familiar scent; an aroma of soap, sweat and spice that she now equated with comfort, safety, love. She allowed herself to bask just a moment, then gave him a lingering peck on the lips.

"Mm. Those lips could resurrect a dead man. You should've just kissed me the first day of Project Lazarus; it would have saved the Illusive Man quite a few credits."

She couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled from her lips. "I think that's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you?"

Shepard deadpanned, his voice going quiet and low, tinged just an edge of seduction. "You wouldn't say that if you knew what it was like to kiss you."

Miranda shot him a heated look, and if it weren't for the fact they were currently standing in the middle of the crowded Presidium with Emma in tow, there was a good chance she would have already been on top of him, peeling him out of his clothes.

Her thumb traced his lips. "If you're good, I might reward you a little more thoroughly tonight." She promised.

Shepard smirked, and she could nearly see the gears in his head turning. "I better behave, then."

Miranda winked at him, then touched the tip of Emma's nose with her finger; the six month old giggled.

"Be right back," she assured her, and headed in the direction of the barista.

Rebuilding as a galactic whole was slow and steady, but she was glad this place in particular re-opened. People sipping coffee and staring over the Presidium as it slowly started to take shape again… it made things seem normal. And normalcy was something the galaxy was more than ready for.

Something Miranda was more than ready for.

She approached the teenager who was manning the beverage counter and asked for a refill of green tea and coffee with cream and sugar. She was watching the girl operate the machines with efficiency that came with doing something the same way every day when she felt a touch on her shoulder. Reflexively, she whirled around. She was readying a smirk, half expecting Shepard to be the culprit insisting he should be able to go home and get his "reward" before tonight, but she couldn't have been more wrong.

It was definitely a man, but definitely not Shepard.

"Miranda. I thought that was you. How have you been?"

Sandy blonde hair, brown eyes; eyes she hadn't seen in years, and didn't think she'd see again. His voice was warm, familiar.

She found it unusually difficult to form a complete thought. "Abel? I'm… well. How about you?"

He laughed. "Alright, I guess. Been working for C-Sec for the past five years. A lot different from what I did way back when, but a good kind of different…"

Then it became quiet for a moment; Abel trailed off like he wanted to say something, but was having an inward debate with himself.

The barista finished preparing the tea and coffee, but saw Miranda was engrossed in deep conversation, so she just gave her a look and set the drinks on the counter.

"You know, with all that happened with Cerberus, I thought about you from time to time. I was really glad when I heard whispers from old colleagues that you got out before things really went to hell."

"Me too," Miranda agreed. "The Illusive Man lost sight of what really mattered. He gave me an order I couldn't follow; I resigned. Things got even more dicey after that, but I survived."

"I didn't expect anything less from you. You're the most determined woman I've ever known."

He paused again, like he was debating that same thought from earlier, but this time, he didn't hold back. "You know, Miranda, you look… really great."

Miranda could feel herself freeze over. She had spent a long time getting the man in front of her out of her system, and he had the nerve to approach her years later when she was happy and hadn't thought about him in years and _flirt_? What kind of game was he playing?

"Listen, Abel, I—"

She didn't get much out when a third party approached and interrupted.

"Emma and I got a little worried when you didn't come straight back. Is everything… alright?"

Shepard had planted himself to her right, with their daughter in tow.

"Everything is fine, Adam."

Shepard switched Emma to his other arm, and she stopped babbling, giving her full attention to the exchange going on around her. He gestured to her companion. "Are you going to introduce us?

Was it terrible a part of her didn't want to?

"Of course. Adam, this is Abel Strauss; we worked together when I first started at Cerberus. And this is Adam Shepard, my husband, and Emma, our six month old."

Realization dawned on Abel's face. "Ah… _Commander_ Shepard." He looked pointedly at Miranda. "I remember reading extranet tabloids saying you were together when the Collectors were abducting people. Then after the Reapers were destroyed, there were rumors that you had married the Savior of the Galaxy and were pregnant. I also read that he was divorcing you for a hanar Fornax pin-up, and I saw another tidbit that you had gone your separate ways when the Commander returned to Alliance Headquarters on Earth for investigation, so I didn't know what to believe."

Shepard smiled, and maybe to anyone who didn't know the Commander very well, it might have looked genuine, but Miranda could see the ruefulness crystal clear. He lifted Emma, emphasizing her to Abel. "Well, as you can see, we _are_ married with a baby, and very happy, too."

Abel smiled a bit, offering his index finger to Emma. She grinned, reaching for the digit and squeezing it.

"Yes, I can see that," he stood there for a moment, looking at Emma with the piqued interest nearly all people have in cute babies. "She's beautiful."

"Like her mother," Shepard agreed, and caught Miranda's eye, making sure he captured her wary gaze with the intense one meant only for her.

Abel turned his attentions away from Emma, and sent them back to Miranda. "It was really good seeing you, Miranda. And you too, Shepard. I'm glad to see things turned out so well for you. Really, I am."

"Likewise," she told him. He awarded her a small smile in reply. He then turned smartly on his heels and headed in the direction of the elevator.

When he was safely out of earshot, Shepard gave her a look.

"An old colleague, you said?"

Miranda finally retrieved the now lukewarm beverages from the counter. "Yes."

"He sure seemed friendly for one of your colleagues. You usually keep everything so professional, it's hard to get to know you beyond work. I know from experience."

Miranda took a sip from her tea. "Yes, well, I wasn't like that back then. I was eighteen when I met Abel… We were together for a couple of years."

Shepard raised a brow, sitting down at the nearest table with Emma on his knee. Miranda followed suit.

"You… dated?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Don't act clueless, Adam. You must have had some idea; you came over here to make sure he knew I was unavailable."

Shepard shrugged. "Maybe I _did_ think he looked a little too chummy with you. Pretending like he didn't know we were together when the extranet makes damn sure the entire galaxy knows every detail of our life. You can't do an interview about relief efforts without someone asking about our marriage."

Miranda tucked a hair behind her ear, voice laced with humor. "And I tell them all how blissful being married to Adam Shepard is. I can't believe you're leaving me for a hanar pin-up."

Shepard snorted, snuggling Emma close as the child began to fidget in his arms. She was crawling now, and preferred to be moving around on her own. "As if. But are you… alright? You looked a little rattled during that conversation."

Miranda exhaled and took a sip of her tea. "I'm fine. It's just a little jarring. I hadn't seen him in years before today; things didn't end well."

Her husband leaned forward in his seat. "What happened?"

Was he really _asking_ for details on her relationship with an ex? The question brought back a rush of memories, whispered conversations, and holding hands under the table in the mess hall; times she hadn't thought about in ages, and wasn't sure she cared to recall now.

"We were relatively new to Cerberus; eventually we became… close. We started seeing each other when I was eighteen. The truth about some of Cerberus' more _questionable_ operations came to light, namely the truth about the Teltin facility. Abel decided he needed to take the moral highroad and leave. He wanted me to come; said I was too good to be part of an organization that tortured kids for biotic data, even if it was a rogue group. But I had been moving up in the hierarchy; I felt like I was making progress for humanity. I told him I wasn't going to throw away everything I had accomplished just because a group of sick individuals committed horrors under the Cerberus banner. In the end, I suppose I wasn't worth staying for, just like I couldn't bring myself to leave for him. Not much else to say."

"Any old feelings coming back?"

"Don't be absurd." Miranda told him. "I have you and Emma. Are you seriously suggesting I _miss_ him? That I'm questioning our relationship?"

"Of course not. That doesn't mean nostalgia isn't a powerful emotion."

She chewed that over for a moment. "Abel was my first relationship, but he's the past. He hurt me; I moved on." She gave Shepard a smoldering look. "You're the man I share my bed with; there's no comparison."

She wasn't sure if Shepard was satisfied or not, but at any rate, he dropped the subject after that.

When they arrived back at the apartment, Miranda went back to her datapad and continued pouring over reports while Shepard relaxed on the sofa with Emma on his stomach and chatted with her while she crawled all over the place, exercising her high energy. Their daughter giggled and babbled, and despite how absorbed Miranda was in her work, she couldn't resist breaking from her constant reading to observe the two, unable to hide her smile.

After a while, Emma placed her two favorite fingers in her mouth and began sucking on them with intense concentration. Her round cheeks puffed as she went about her task.

"Look, Mommy. Someone's getting sleepy." She heard Shepard comment. Miranda glanced over, and sure enough, Emma had made herself comfortable against her father's chest, her head cradled under his chin like she was a violin, eyes glassy and unfocused.

"I'll be right there to put her in her crib. Just give me one more minute to finish this report."

Shepard sighed, content. "No rush, babe. Take all the time you need."

But when she finally _did_ finish the report and went to make good on her promise, she found her partner snoring softly while Emma cooed, both sound asleep. She picked Emma up, careful not to disturb either of them, and placed her in the crib in her room.

When she returned to the living room, Shepard had moved a bit, but was still snoozing peacefully. It never ceased to amaze her how good with their child he was; he doted on Emma constantly. In any conversation he never failed to steer the subject towards her, most likely before he started boasting on how she was so smart, cute, etc. She had witnessed more than once the glassy-eyed look of someone who was weary of talking about the baby, but was too polite to outright say so.

It was culture shock for Miranda; she had no idea what a healthy father-daughter relationship looked like before she saw the two of them together. Her own father didn't exactly give her normal template to measure by.

But Shepard loved Emma, no question. She couldn't ask for a more hands on dad, or a better partner.

And Miranda loved the both of them, so much more than she was able and willing to communicate.

The biotic left the baby's room and went back toward the den. She walked toward the couch and knelt so she was eye-level with Shepard, kissing a trail from his collarbone to the base of his ear. He stirred, a happy noise sounding from deep in his chest, subconsciously craning his neck toward the stimulation.

"Hey, you." She purred softly near his ear. "Your daughter's in bed and I've got everything from here. Why don't you go lie down and get a proper rest?"

"Mm… Might if you come, too."

Miranda chuckled at his mumblings. "Not a good idea. I have a lot of work to do."

His hands found the small of her back, fingers following the gentle curve. A happy shudder traveled from her toes up to her hairline. "Just a quick nap."

She kissed the corner of his mouth. "Tempting. But you and I both know if I go to bed with you now, we'll be doing everything but sleeping."

She pulled away to look at him; his green eyes were open, milky and unfocused from sleep. He smiled at her groggily. "Mm, that sounds good, too. I've been good like you asked."

Miranda brushed the spot on his lips where she had just kissed him with her thumb. "I know, and I'll pay you back, I promise. Just wait until Emma is down for the night." She lowered her voice, making it quiet, breathy, tinged with seduction. "I want you all to myself; no interruptions."

"Damn," Shepard groaned, "You're not exactly helping your cause talking like that."

It was at that moment Emma's cry broke through the dense atmosphere between them, shattering the intensity of the past few moments. Adam sighed, and she knew he realized that any hope he had of persuading her was gone. She gave him a sympathetic look.

"I'll go check on her." A manicured nail slowly traveled from the collar of his shirt down to the waistband of his jeans. "Don't think I don't want tonight just as much as you. I don't care if it's five minutes; I'm getting all of you I can in the time we have."

Her husband let his head fall back against the arm of the sofa, and she felt him give her hips a gentle but generous squeeze. "After all that talk, you better." But he gave her a small grin, which she knew was his way of letting her know he understood, and wasn't upset. "I actually need to pick a few things up in Zakera Ward, anyway, so I'll go ahead and do that if you've got Emma."

"Of course," She got to her feet as he rose up and made his way to the door where he kept his jacket and shoes. While Shepard was busy getting ready to leave, she went back to Emma's room where her cries bounced off the walls in the spacious apartment. Miranda picked her up, speaking sweetly and softly, and checked the time on her omni-tool. It was eight o'clock, time for her last bottle before bed.

Miranda retrieved everything she needed from the kitchen and went back to the living room, sitting back on the couch where Shepard had been dozing while Emma took her bottle with gusto. After about ten minutes when the baby had finished her dinner, she smiled and cooed, talking to Miranda for a little bit, then her eyes began to droop and before long she was asleep again.

Miranda placed Emma back in her crib and sat in a chair, just watching her, mind wandering to Abel and those early years at Cerberus like it had earlier.

Shepard had acted so insecurely after meeting him, and that led her to wonder if there wasn't some doubt in him about them. Which, if true, would be absurd, like she told him. She was totally committed, and the fact that Shepard seemed off was almost a bit insulting.

Did he really think there was anyone else? That there ever could be? Sure, she had cared for Abel, maybe even loved him, but it was nothing like what was between Shepard and her.

Miranda quietly stood from her seat after a few more minutes of thought, and after making sure the baby monitor was linked to her omni-tool, noiselessly left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

She must have been in there absorbed with her musing longer than she initially thought, because when she went to set the omni-tool down on the night-stand in their bedroom upstairs, she noticed the adjoining bathroom door was shut, and she could hear movements and the soft spray of a running showerhead beyond it.

Emma would most certainly be down for the night, and the thought of Shepard naked, wet, and sexually frustrated on the other side of the sliding door was becoming more and more enticing as the seconds went on.

Miranda might have been playing the role of the responsible, rational one earlier, but the truth was, she wanted him just as badly, and she really didn't want to wait until later like she promised. That's when an idea crossed her mind.

Miranda peeled herself out of her clothes. Once fully naked, she slid open the door, the shower spray loud and no longer muffled as the steam swirled out. She closed the door behind herself, the hot, humid air surrounding her completely in a dense block once again. She set her omni-tool on the sink counter, just in case Emma woke up.

"Five more minutes." she heard Shepard reassure her over the noise of the water, apparently having heard her enter. He pushed the curtain aside just enough so his thoroughly wet head peeped out. "Then I'll be out of your—"

He stopped whatever he was going to say, and she could almost feel his eyes raking down her body more than she saw them as he realized her state of undress. Her husband's mouth closed, then opened, then closed again. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard at the sight of her.

"Any room in there for me?"

Shepard pulled the curtain the rest of the way back without hesitation. "Always."

She stepped into the beige tiled, spacious shower. The warm water immediately rained down on her, and she brushed heavy, damp strands of hair out of her face. She stood there a moment, saying nothing, watching the shower water run down his glistening, muscular frame in rivulets.

"Your daughter is asleep," she informed him, moving closer, pressing their bodies together. "We've got the rest of the night to ourselves."

There was a sharp intake of air on Shepard's part as she kissed his naked shoulder. "God, Miranda. You better be sure; I've been thinking about this all day, so don't start something if you might not get the chance to finish."

She laughed against his warm, wet skin as she continued to kiss a path across his chest, her tongue taking a moment to lave his right nipple. Shepard groaned, and his hand found the back of her neck, urging her on. She felt his areole harden under her attentions.

She broke away from her task long enough to assure him. "Don't worry; we're both going to finish."

He pulled her up from her ministrations and smashed his lips against hers; the exchange a flurry of tongue and shower-water intermingled. The kiss was ravenous, but deep and slow like he was savoring her, enjoying the taste as if she was the first meal he'd had after a week-long fast.

Miranda's manicured fingertips found his lower abdomen, softly scoring the sensitive area where his thigh started. Her lover arched his hips into hers.

Admittedly, after she had Emma, Miranda worried just as she had during pregnancy on how Shepard would react to her changing physique. Her genetic tailoring no doubt helped her body bounce back a lot quicker than the average woman's, but she was still human; it was hard. She wasn't good at dealing with insecurity.

Shepard ended their kiss with a filthy smack, resting his forehead against hers as he took a few healthy draws of air, proof of his burgeoning interest hard and insistent against her leg.

The insecurity was needless worry on her part, she realized.

"Someone's excited," she pointed out, fingers playing in the short-cut, dripping strands of light brown hair on the back of his head.

"It's your fault," he insisted, raising his head, large hands winding around her waist, "Barging in here, naked, with that amazing mouth of yours, after you spent all day making promises about what you were going to do to me later. Who _wouldn't_ be hard as a damn rock?"

Miranda bit her lip, giving him an impassioned look from behind long lashes. She twirled in his arms so her back was to him, making sure her backside brushed against his front. "And I meant every word. I want you, Adam; don't make me wait."

Shepard growled into her ear, and Miranda inwardly smirked. That was the most thrilling facet of their relationship; she knew her partner. She knew what parts of her body he loved, what parts of his body were the most sensitive and receptive. She knew where he liked to be touched and how.

Miranda ground back harder against him, and felt the pleasant drag of his rigid dick against the seam of her rear.

"The sexiest ass in the galaxy," he panted, sounding almost awestruck, smoothing his hands across the curve of her backside. "God, this feels good."

"Mmm," she hummed her approval. "It does."

The way his length felt sandwiched between her pert globes was indescribable. She experienced every ridge and hitch as she ground her body against his. The water from the shower lessened the friction, but enough remained to kickstart her own need.

She felt his hand skirt to her front, cupping her sex gently, nudging a curious finger into her folds. It was at that moment she realized she was wet, and not because of the shower. Shepard realized it, too.

"You want this almost as bad as I do." He rolled his hips hard to meet her behind, and she heard him quietly moan his own pleasure. "Another minute and I'm going to come."

Miranda felt his dick throb from its fleshy prison and laughed breathlessly, letting her head fall against his shoulder. "Then do it."

He kissed the beginning point of her spine, biting down lightly on her skin. "Not until I've had my fill."

Miranda pulled away as their bodies, with no small amount of reluctance, disengaged. She turned around so she could get a good look at him. He was flushed, manhood bobbing hard and heavy between his legs. There was a primal part of Miranda that enjoyed seeing him so debauched, desperate.

She grinned, looking pointedly at his aching cock. "Hmm, you really are an eager boy. Need any help with that, sweetheart?"

Without looking away, her husband shut off the shower. The roar of the spray ceased; draining water and heavy breathing being the only thing audible for a moment.

"You. Bed. Now." He instructed, voice gravelly and saturated with arousal. She noted he didn't bother to answer her previous question directly, but she was pretty sure she already knew his answer whether he spoke it or not.

Brown hair wet and dripping, green eyes intense, pupils dilated, and hard muscles from years of a marine's workout regimen taut and rigid with beads of water racing down his warm skin. Miranda may have been back to playing the confident role, but her never failed to take her breath away when he looked like that.

The former operative warned, "You better be right behind."

She gave him a hot look before turning, swaying her hips as she retrieved a towel from the hook, knowing full well what both of those in tandem did to him.

"Always," she was certain she heard him murmur.

She toweled off good enough so she wasn't dripping wet, then opened the door to the steam-filled room, and as the fresh clear air rushed in, chilling her, and the dense, humid air dispersed, she heard Shepard clamor out of the shower and follow obediently.

Miranda strutted to their bed, but before she could drop her towel or turn around, her partner immediately set on her from behind, and she fell belly first onto the edge.

"You're doing that on purpose."

She felt him drape his wet body against hers; his very interested arousal pressed insistently into her backside.

He brushed her dark ebony hair away from her neck and kissed the exposed area. She tilted her head to give him better access.

"What am I doing?" she asked like she had no idea what he meant. He gently nipped at a particularly sensitive spot he never failed to exploit since he stumbled upon its existence during an impassioned bout of necking. And there was a ticklish one right beside there, but he was merciful enough not to use that weapon against her during their foreplay, and for that she was grateful.

But for the sole purpose of teasing her mate, she snuck a hand behind, finding his hard length. She wrapped her hand around the engorged organ, pumping slowly. Shepard moaned, and with no small amount of smugness that it was her touch that reduced him to a panting, desperate mess, she spread the precome that had begun accumulating at his tip up and down his shaft.

Miranda smirked and pulled her hand from him and a long string of his essence followed. Shepard watched as it stretched thinner and thinner the farther away she got, awestruck, until the glistening thread finally broke. She crawled farther up towards the headboard, before rolling onto her back, Shepard on her heels.

She heard him let out a breath he had apparently been holding. "You know exactly what you're doing."

"There's even more I can do with my mouth, sweetheart."

Shepard spread his large palms over her belly that had carried their miracle child not even six months ago. "Tempting, but not now. Maybe tomorrow morning me between your legs will be your wake-up call, then I'll let you return the favor."

She loved the image of that: Shepard deep in her folds, lapping hungrily at the deepest point he could go, driving her crazy with that talented tongue of his, never breaking their eye-contact as he pierced her with that white-hot stare.

And then she'd get to taste him, watching his blown pupils struggle to stay focused on her and what she was doing to him instead of rolling into the back of his head.

Miranda arched up into him. "I'll hold you to that."

"Please do." Shepard spread himself out on top of her, supporting his weight on his right forearm. He kissed her cheek, and she wordlessly wrapped her legs around his hips, heels digging into his thighs. His green eyes were soft and deep as they caught her cobalt ones. The stomach flips returned in full force.

He never failed to make her feel safe, never let her forget she was loved. Not to say everything was a fairy-tale. Like every couple, they fought. Miranda knew herself, knew she was capable of being detached, cold. While Shepard had smoothed a lot of her sharp edges, her harshness was just part of who she was. Thankfully, she had a partner who cared for her unconditionally, who understood it was a defense mechanism.

It was no wonder she couldn't imagine being with anyone else, or being as intimate with another human being as she was with Shepard.

She stepped out of her lust-haze for a minute to let that sensation seep into the marrow of her bones. The complete and utter confidence in their relationship was almost inebriating.

He smiled and brushed her chin with his thumb. Butterflies ensued. The gesture was innocent enough, yet his attentions were like adornment, making her feel prized, sexy. She was reminded how she had waited for this all day, how much she wanted him.

"I love you, Miranda."

Her heart fluttered at the statement, but in true Miranda fashion, she covered up the moment of vulnerability with projected confidence.

"Mm, of course you do."

Her husband laughed. "If you're that secure, I've obviously done my job." He leaned in, kissing the shell of her ear. "And I know you really mean 'I love you, too'."

Of course she did, but something inside of her that was still inherently Lawson made her shy away from sentimentality sometimes, and her intended endearments came out as something else.

Other times, she just loved being a tease.

"I love you? You sure about that?" she asked playfully.

Shepard trailed a finger down her flat (or near enough flat for someone who just had a baby six months ago, thank you very much) stomach, over her navel and traced to seam of her sex with a thick fingertip. She was wet as ever.

"I'm positive." He replied, as if the slick on his finger emphasized his point.

She exhaled, trying to hide how intensely his touch was turning her on, but her insides quivering at his caress no doubt gave her away. "I'm positive if you don't—ahh… get to your husbandly duties, I might have to track down Abel and—"

Before she could finish the thought, Shepard removed his finger, and with one strong snap of his hips, replaced it with his hard cock.

Miranda hissed, thighs tightening around his in a death grip. While it wasn't painful per se due to the fact that she had been wet for him since their foreplay in the shower, there was a certain amount of discomfort.

But it felt good. Amazing, actually. Her only real complaint was that he didn't take his time like he usually did. She missed the easy, slick slide of their coupling, his generous prick filling every square inch inside her tight walls.

"That was a little rough," she told him.

His hands reached underneath her and cupped her ass, kneading each cheek with pistol-worn palms.

"You brought up the ex you saw just this afternoon while we're in bed together." He countered with a growl, teeth clenched.

His body language told her that maybe she had went too far, made him too angry with the comment. Then she noticed he hadn't moved since the first push, not even a roll of hips, not even a deep breath.

He might have been put off, but that wasn't the whole reason for his sudden rigidness. Jaw clenched, muscles taut, and his fingertips pressing into her malleable rear as she felt his strong thighs tremble.

Shepard was trying not to come.

Pride filled her at the thought that she was the one who brought him so close to the edge. His face flush, hair mused; he was all hers. Miranda was the only one who got to see Commander Shepard so lust-drunk. Her cervix clenched around the intruder at the sexy thought.

The Savior of the Galaxy whimpered and let his head drop on the mattress beside hers.

"I only said what I did to put a fire in your belly so you'd hurry up and _give it to me_." Her blunt nails scraped down his back hard enough that she was confident he felt it, but nowhere near harsh enough to break skin. "You know that you and that big, gorgeous cock inside of me are all I need."

It wasn't often she talked like that, but the pleasure and love for this man coursing through her veins had taken away her filter. She felt him twitch inside her, and her spine tingled with happiness that just her words alone had done that.

Shepard moaned. "God, Miranda... you and that mouth again… As if it wasn't hard enough to not come immediately."

Miranda rutted against him, knowing he loved the feedback she gave with her body. "You know I never miss an opportunity to make things harder."

She could hear him hiss near her ear. "If you can still joke, I'm not doing this properly."

His warm, calloused palms squeezed her ass again, and he used the leverage to finally move. He pulled halfway out of her.

Miranda threw her head back against the pillows, unspeakably turned on and frustrated at the same time.

He growled. "Damn... You should see yourself. So beautiful."

She sighed and tightened her legs around his hips. She arched up into him, drawing his swollen member some of the way back inside her.

He murmured her name hoarsely, just loud enough for her ears only, and with one lunge of his strong hips, he was balls deep inside her once again.

Shepard started moving agonizingly slow, taking his sweet time as he fucked into her. He was so steady, so strong, yet fluid like water as they began moving in tandem. His lips found her neck, nipping his way to her jawline as gooseflesh erupted on her entire body, then he smashed his lips against hers, instantly invading her mouth. She sucked on his tongue, urging him deeper inside with every slide home.

"Do you like it, Adam? The way I feel?"

"Y-yeah, babe, so good. Don't think I've… ahh…" a gasp on a particularly deep plunge. "—ever been so h-hard my whole life…"

She could vouch for that. He was everywhere; in her, on top of her—she was drowning in this man, and he in her. Their perspiration-slick bodies moved together in perfect rhythm. She met him pound for pound, the room quiet except for the slapping of skin and the gasps of each other's names.

His thrusts became slower and deeper, and she felt his body tremble as he assaulted her pleasure spot over and over. Just when she was positive they both were about to fall off the precipice for real this time, he pulled out of her completely.

She meant to growl, but the noise that left her lips was a whine more than anything, feeling an overwhelming emptiness as he halted both their climaxes. There was no way he would have the gall to tease her now, not when she was this desperate for her release… his, too. There was no way he wasn't ready, either, by the look of him. His red, engorged cock looked almost painful, wedged between both their stomachs, hard and proud, practically begging for release, glistening with both of their precome. Pure need burned in her belly at the sight.

Miranda could have screamed, and had to work exceedingly hard at not using her biotics to cause him bodily injury. "W-what was—"

Shepard, breathing heavily, shushed her in a soothing voice, pressing his body flush against hers, grinding their pelvises. Their sexes slid gloriously together, teasing her almost-there release to the point of madness.

"Need… gonna try something…" he kissed the corner of her mouth reassuringly as he positioned her on her side, sliding behind her.

She felt his cock graze the cleft of her ass as he hoisted her left leg up, cradling it in the crook of his arm, then she felt him tease her entrance from behind. She pressed her backside against him, realizing his intent.

She could only imagine how obscene she looked; legs spread as far as they would go, Shepard holding her in position, and decided she was going to make this as difficult for him as it was for her.

Miranda reached between her thighs and found his member, hand barely able to make a fist all the way around his girth. She gave his wet cock a few jerks. Her husband panted in her ear.

"Shit, babe. I want to come in you, not on your hand."

He wanted to come _in_ her? He sure had a funny way of showing it.

That fact in mind, she ignored him, electing to slide him between her folds, then began grinding on his thick tool. He lowered her leg just a bit.

Two could play at this teasing game.

"I love this, Adam," she mewled, and with the hand that wasn't stimulating the both of them, she reached behind and found his cheek, guiding him towards her waiting lips.

She kissed him slow, her eager tongue making up for the fact that the weird angle didn't allow for a deep plundering of his mouth like she would have preferred. But she made it work, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth, the hot kiss almost as arousing as the slick slide of their sexes going on at the same time. Then she got smart, and shifted until she was nearly on her back again.

After a few more moments of searing kisses, Miranda came up for air.

"So good to me," he panted after they parted.

"Then return the favor." She gently guided his weeping tip to her eager entrance, making sure there was no confusion as to how exactly she wanted her just dues.

"Yes m-ma'am."

He entered her from behind slowly, inch by inch until he had bottomed out, and she cried out at the delicious sensation of being stretched and filled to her limit. But after that initial patient movement, slow and sweet were placed on the back burner.

It felt like she was being split in two, and yet somehow being stitched whole all at the same time.

The second phase of their joining was hot and needy, the angle of penetration different but certainly pleasurable. Miranda arched her back, allowing Shepard to spear her deeper as she ground down, meeting his jackhammer movements. His lap smacked against her ass with every slide home as they came together over and over again.

"Y-yeah... just like that..." He began chanting breathily in her ear, saying her name like a mantra, telling her how amazing she felt, how much he wanted her, and a choked gasp accented every clench of her cervix around his pulsating prick.

Miranda tried to form words, to say something, but to no avail. Then she realized exactly why she was having trouble: the high pitched noises that had been bouncing off the walls of their bedroom were her own moans, sounding exaggerated and whorish, even to her own ears.

The former operative felt her cheeks burn; they had slept together numerous times over the course of their relationship, and she hadn't been a blushing virgin going into things with Shepard, yet she couldn't help getting embarrassed, even at the hottest point of sex, at her nearly pornographic vocalizations.

Even though Shepard wasn't by any means a quiet lover himself.

"Ahh," she heard him rasp, "I-I'm gonna…"

He didn't get the chance to finish; a couple more erratic thrusts pushed him over the edge. She savored the sensation of him spilling inside of her as her own climax ensued and she came hard herself.

Her husband buried his face into her neck, continuing to piston into her through their orgasms until they were both sated and milked dry. Their joint bucking eased to a halt. They lay still like that for a few moments, trying to catch their breath, still joined, sweaty bodies clinging to one another.

There was no small measure of disappointment on both sides at the end as they both came back down to earth and Shepard finally eased out of her, the wet squelch deafening as some of the oxygen started to slowly eek back into the room.

"Wow, babe, that was—" he stopped, seemingly at a loss for words.

"— Life changing?" she supplied.

Shepard's agreement rumbled in his chest, and he then proceeded to lavish that ticklish spot on her neck with playful kisses. Miranda didn't bother trying to contain the happy laugh that bubbled past her lips.

"Sex always puts you in a good mood," she observed.

His finger traced the edge of her belly button, making her insides warm like a good cup of Earl Grey.

"It's not just the sex. You and I together… Just being close—I love these moments."

Miranda clicked her tongue. "I believe you're sentimental enough for the both of us, dear."

That pulled a content purr out of him. "You love it, though."

 _Guilty as charged_ came out as "No comment."

That only seemed to put more air in his sails; Shepard chuckled and tilted her head towards him, leaning over for better leverage as he kissed her long and sweet, draping an arm over her midsection, tugging her close as the liplock ended.

"About Abel…" she began carefully. Now that her head was unclouded, she was worried about Shepard's headspace. "Are you sure you're alright? It was poor taste when I mentioned him while we were—"

"Forget about it." He interrupted. "I lied; I might have been a little jealous at first when I met him, and downright pissed when you brought him up in the heat of our moment, but that's done."

"Adam—"

He nuzzled her cheek, stopping her. "Seriously, baby, it's fine. I'm the man you share your bed with. There's no comparison, right?"

Miranda smiled in spite of herself as he echoed her own rebuttal to the same question earlier. "That's right."

"Then it's water under the bridge. Now let's get some sleep; we got really lucky baby girl didn't make a peep during any of that."

She agreed, satisfied enough the drop the subject, and hopped from bed to retrieve her omni-tool from the bathroom, using it to shut off the lights before slipping back into their bed.

The darkness and the warmth off the large body spooning her from behind, occasionally murmuring sweet nothings in her ear, relaxed her. That paired with the fact that she was quite tired from looking after Emma all day—to say nothing of the rigorous love-making and orgasm from just a minute ago that seemed to drain what little energy she had—was a winning combination for fantastic sleep.

She dozed off to the sound of Shepard's even breathing.

* * *

Miranda's eyes opened slowly as she was stirred from her sleep by baby cries oozing from her omni-tool.

The spacious room was pitch black, save for dim blue glow of a family holo they had taken about a month ago of the three of them with the entire surviving Normandy crew at party that had been thrown on the Citadel.

The motherly instinct that surprised even her kicked in as she made to get up. The arm that was swathed calmly—albeit protectively—around her midsection turned into a steel cable, effectively pinning her to the bed, against the man snuggled close.

"Not a chance. You stay and rest; she's clearly calling for daddy."

Miranda, if she hadn't been so deliriously warm, comfortable, and half-asleep, might have objected, but seeing how she was all those things, gave this articulate response instead.

"M'kay."

"I don't even have to be able to see you to know that you look so cute right now, sleepy like this."

"Mmm." She replied, not even really sure what he had said.

There might have been a boyish laugh, she wasn't sure, but she was sure when the warmth left her, the bed sighing as weight was lifted from it. A second later she thought she heard their drawers being rummaged through, and a rustle of fabric as he pulled on a pair of briefs to cover his nakedness.

She slipped in and out of consciousness after that, nowhere near awake but not really asleep. She had no way of knowing how long that went on, but eventually she felt the bed sink under returning weight.

The warmth enveloped her once more.

"She just needed a little daddy time." a voice reported quietly, "Went straight back to sleep."

She involuntarily pressed back against Shepard, who had already put his arm around her again.

Miranda felt something that was most likely a kiss on her cheek, and the voice might have told her he loved her. The grogginess made things almost dream-like.

As if she had been waiting for his return so she could drift back off, it wasn't much longer until sleep claimed her again.

There was no reasoning, no calculations, no constant Lawson cynicism.

Bliss—that was the solitary thrum in her head as everything went fuzzy and she slipped back into her dreams, only to wake to a reality that was no less fantastic.

* * *

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